


Blood is rare

by ThorneofAcre



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 02:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorneofAcre/pseuds/ThorneofAcre
Summary: There's an explision. Gil's trapped inside a burning building. Malcolm will get him out even if it's the last thing he does.





	Blood is rare

Malcolm comes to with smoke filling his mouth. He coughs, eyes tearing up from the effort. His ears are ringing, and his vision's bleary. It couldn't have been too long then since the explosion.

  
He pushes himself to stand slowly, assessing damage. He takes a step forwards and pain shoots up his right foot. He gasps, stumbling and stifling a scream, not wanting to inhale more smoke. He has stepped on a large nail and he could feel it digging into his foot. He grabs the part protruding from his shoe and gives it a sharp tug. It comes out and he wills himself to stand again, queasily putting his weight on the foot and exhaling slowly to focus through the waves of pain.

Gil. He needs to find Gil. The detective had rushed in after the suspect with strict instructions for Malcolm to wait outside. Malcolm had actually listened for once, until he figured out that the man they were after was going to blow himself up. He had rushed in then, needing to get to Gil in time to warn him but he had been too late. He had barely made it inside the entrance when the explosion had sent him flying into a wall. 

Pushing the image of Gil lying torn up and bloody somewhere inside Malcolm starts moving through the rubble, his eyes squinting in the dark. He can make out the outline of a door and he heads slowly towards it, his useless foot mostly dragging behind as he struggles to remain upright. The door is hot and Malcolm can see the glow of the fire behind it. But that's almost definitely where Gil is so that's where he needs to go too. Hiding his face in the crook of his elbow he pushes the door open. A wall of smoke hits him making his eyes water and he could feel it clawing down his nose, filling his mouth with the taste of ash. He bends down low, trying to see through the smoke and fire that's filled the room. Most of the room is burning, with debris lying around. The bomb seems to have gone off here.

There! Malcolm can make out Gil on the floor. The flames are creeping close to him but he's not moving and Malcolm stumbles over to him, panic fogging his vision even more than the smoke. His hands shake and bile threatens to rise in his throat for the seconds it take for him to find a pulse. It's there though, slow but steady. Malcolm tries to turn the detective over, feeling him for injuries. There's blood oozing out from a nasty cut on his head but he doesn't seem to have broken anything.

'Gil! Gil wake up!' he pleads in between coughs, shaking the older man's shoulder. Gil doesn't move. The fire is inching closer, the heat making what's left of Malcolm's coat stick to his back. There are a million things in the room to feed the fire and most of them are already burning. He needs to get out. He needs to get Gil out.

He takes off his jacket and wraps it around Gil's face, trying to minimise the smoke he inhales. There's no way he's going to be able to carry Gil. The older man's bigger frame and Malcolm's own pitifully small one makes any fireman carry he could have managed impossible. He tries to stand up, but there's too much smoke and he falls back to the floor. He gets on his knees, just behind Gil's head and grabs him under the armpits. He pulls, moving backwards on his knees and Gil moves slightly. Arms shaking Malcolm crawls backwards on his knees, dragging Gil slowly away. A few feet and Malcolm is panting with the effort, and has to take a few moments to gather his strength.

He tries to weakly shake Gil's shoulder again. "Gil. Please wake up. You have to wake up. Please I can't, I can't do this." Nothing.

Malcolm could feel his body protesting as he moves into position again, the days of no food or sleep making themselves known. His vision is swimming and he could feel his entire body trembling with pain and exhaustion. This time he almost makes it out of the door into the other room before his knees give out and he slumps over Gil. A wretched sob bursts out and in that moment Malcolm hates himself.

He hates how weak he is, how utterly useless. Gil is depending on him, and all Malcolm can do is cry at his own helplessness. His broken pleas for the older man to get up and to get himself out go unheard. Malcolm takes a shuddering breath not caring about the smoke he's breathing in. He coughs and his vision goes completely dark for a moment but it doesn't matter. None of it matters, his life doesn't matter, all he needs to do is get Gil out and away from the fire and smoke. He calls up all his energy and wills himself to get to his feet. The room has filled up with more smoke than before but Malcolm doesn't care. He bends to grab Gil again, taking precarious steps backwards, dragging the detective slowly, his own injured foot making itself known with jolts of pain at every step he forces himself to take. He stumbles several times but he gets back on his feet and keeps pushing through the fog in his mind.

He's almost to the door. 'One foot, pull, other foot, pull, breathe.' He keeps up the mantra in his head, and he's just out the door when his knees give out. He collapses, mostly on top of Gil. The last thing he can make out is the fresh air on his face and the sound of distant sirens before everything goes dark.   
  
  
  



End file.
